


Taking Care of the Bandage

by firstdegreefangirl



Category: The Rookie (TV 2018)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Developing Relationship, F/M, Feelings Realization, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, worried!Tim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23115238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl
Summary: Jackson tells Tim that Lucy got injured at work, and he's way too worried for someone who's only concerned about how it reflects on him as a TO
Relationships: Tim Bradford & Lucy Chen, Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen
Comments: 10
Kudos: 174





	Taking Care of the Bandage

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops, my hand slipped. I knocked this entire thing out in just shy of two hours, all because I had an idea and Daisy is a terribly wonderful influence on me.
> 
> No beta, all mistakes are my own. But, then again, so are the fun parts!

Tim comes around the corner, exiting the locker room, and collides with Jackson. 

“Sorry, excuse me, Officer Bradford!” The younger officer jumps back and Tim fights the urge to roll his eyes. The latest class of rookies has been cut loose almost a month, and he’s shown no signs of cutting back on the brownnosing.

“Watch it, West. It’s not like I’m gonna shoot you for bumping into me.” He holds his hands up and waits for Jackson to steady himself while his mind starts making rapid-fire connections.

_He’s riding the desk today, a so-called “reward” for making a high-profile arrest the week before, as if he’s not spending the shift bored out of his mind. Lucy and Jackson are partnered together since they’re off training, but they shouldn’t be back off the streets for a few more hours, at least._

“What’re you doing here, anyway?” He furrows his brow as he tries to figure out what could have the two of them at the station and not held up in booking. 

“Oh, um.” Jackson at least has the decency to look chastised as he shuffles back a little further and explains. “We were chasing a burglary suspect and he ran – obviously – so I circled the block to head him off while Lucy took the foot pursuit and well, she, uh, she was trying to keep track of him on the sidewalk and wasn’t paying attention to where she was going and she fell–” 

Tim’s heart drops to his stomach and his field of vision narrows. 

_She fell._

Before he can stop himself, he’s imagining the worst. Lucy, back in a hospital bed like she was four months ago, but this time with a broken leg. Hitting her head on the sidewalk as she goes down, sustaining a concussion. Probably one with lasting effects. Stumbling and bumping into a gang member, who turns around and shoots her for “dissing” him. 

_She fell._

“Where is she?” His voice is cold, carefully constructed to be void of any of the emotions racing through his mind. If anything, he sounds angry. And if the look on Jackson’s face is anything to go by, he’s probably trying to defend himself for failing to protect his partner. But Tim isn’t listening to his excuses. There will be time for that later, when he’s seen for himself how bad the damage is. 

To his career. The damage to his career as a TO, a sergeant when the time is right. But when word inevitably gets out that he couldn’t even train her well enough to survive her first month off the leash, that’s it. He’ll be off of every promotion list, every training detail, every special assignment for the rest of his time with the LAPD. 

“Where. Is. She?” Jackson still hasn’t answered his question, so he steps closer and drops his voice to a low growl. 

Jackson’s eyes go wide as he leans away. And Tim can’t be sure, but it sounds like his voice cracks as he answers. 

“R-roll call room. She’s in the roll call room.” 

“Thanks.” Tim shoves past Jackson and hurries down the hall. 

_The roll call room? She’s at the station? She’s got a serious injury and Jackson didn’t take her to the hospital? Didn’t call for a bus? He just brought her here and dropped her in the roll call room, of all places?_

* * *

Lucy startles as the door slams open, bouncing off the wall. Tim strides in, the anger clear in the creases between his brows, but stops halfway across the room and stares intensely at Lucy.

“What?” She throws her hands up and hisses when the motion irritates her injury, but otherwise doesn’t move from her spot half-seated on the end of one of the tables, one foot holding her balance on the ground. 

Tim takes another step forward and Lucy freezes, bandage still in her hand. He drops his gaze to stare at the angry red scrape down the length of her forearm, a few rivulets of blood trickling back toward her elbow. 

“What’d you do to yourself, Boot?” He folds his arms, and Lucy stiffens at the nickname – _she’s not his boot anymore, not anybody’s boot._

“We were chasing a suspect and … I tripped.” Lucy looks down, dropping the hand holding the opened bandage to rest on her knee. 

“See? This is why you shouldn’t have argued with me about wearing long sleeves. If your arms had been covered, you wouldn’t be in this mess.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please just at least tell me you got the perp.” 

Lucy hesitates before she responds, turning her head away from him.

“Jackson made it around the block and headed him off in the car. He’s, ah, down in booking right now.” 

“You didn’t even catch the guy.” Tim laughs dryly. “God, who trained you?” 

“That would be you.” She senses the shift in his mood and plays along, cracking a joke and a small smile. Her injured arm brushes against her duty belt and she winces.

“Damn. You’re right.” He steps closer, and Lucy could be mistaken, but she thinks his expression softens a little bit. “I’ll have to have a serious talking-to with myself about making sure my rookies are field-ready. Or at least smart enough not to drag their road rash along their uniforms. Seriously, Chen, if you’re going to hurt yourself on duty, at least do something about it. Give that here.” 

He takes the bandage from her and reaches out to grab her wrist.

Lucy isn’t sure what she was expecting, but no amount of police training could have prepared her for how gently Tim’s fingers circle her arm, carefully lifting it up to examine the scrapes. 

“You wash this out with anything? Alcohol wipe?” She nods, and he looks a little closer, pressing harder over her pulse point. “Looks good. Let’s get the fresh blood wiped off, patch you back up. Crime doesn’t stop because you got a little scratch.” 

She chuckles while he reaches behind her to grab another wet wipe from the first aid kit, but it turns to a whimper when he presses it to the open wound.

“Hush, Boot. You’ve been through worse.” He tacks a second sentence on quickly, almost like he can tell that he’s misstepped. “Hell, I’ve put you through worse. No way this tops pushups at red lights.” But she notices that his touch his softer, the cool wipe warming beneath his fingers. “Almost done, just gotta get the last of the smears.” 

The wipe disappears from her arm just as Tim finishes speaking, but Lucy doesn’t relax until he picks up the bandage and sticks it to her skin, covering the worst of the road rash. He presses the edges, making sure it’s sealed, but doesn’t let go of her arm. 

His hand is warm, and it’s the first thing she notices, the way she can feel the press of each individual finger where it’s settled against her arm, even through the bandage. 

He’s looking at her, but it’s not an expression she recognizes. There’s no aggression behind his eyes, no mirth. It almost reminds her of the way he looked at Isabel that first day they were on patrol together, but he doesn’t look sad now like he did then. 

If Tim Bradford were the kind of guy who could feel wist – whatever that is – she’d think he looked wistful. As it is, he’s staring at her arm, until he lifts his chin to look her in the eye. 

“See? It’s not that hard to put a bandage on.” The hand wrapped around her wrist squeezes softly, and he opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, but her radio crackles to life before he can get the words out.

“Seven-Adam-13, respond to non-injury motor vehicle accident at 83rd and Hartford.” 

“Seven-Adam-13, responding.” Jackson’s voice comes through her walkie next, and it breaks the tension between them. All at once, he pulls his hands away and stands up. 

“Well, I’ll let you catch back up with West. Enjoy the streets, Boot. Some of us are stuck behind a desk all day.”

She nods and rises as well, heading for the door. But just as she reaches for the handle, Tim calls after her.

“Oh, and Lucy?” She turns around. “Watch where you’re going this time. I don’t train rookies to get hurt twice in the same day.” 

She smiles at him and opens the door. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you later, Tim.” 

And that does something unexpected to him – his first name on her tongue puts something in his chest, something warm and comfortable, the sort of thing that will make the rest of his day at the desk more bearable.

_After all, if he’d have been on patrol today, who’d have taken care of the bandage?_

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this as much as I did! If you want more of Tim being Definitely Not In Love With Lucy, I'm cooking up another fic that's a little over 6k right now, so be on the lookout for that in the near future!


End file.
